


Lost Soul

by Moonrose91



Category: Cyborg 009
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Gilmore is trying to find an old friend of his, Dr. Kirshner, only find he is dead and survived by his granddaughter who has no idea what the Doctor left behind. The race for his secret research has started between the Cyborgs and Black Ghost.</p><p>Only time will tell who will win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lost Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/36460) by MoonRose91. 



> Originally Published: February 20, 2010  
> Originally Completed: July 22, 2011
> 
> I copied and pasted this straight from my fanfiction dot net account with only some editing. One day, I might come back to this and do some major editing, but I hesitate to do that because I adore the Beta that helped me with this four years ago.
> 
> The Beta is from Before the Incident.

Inside a simple house, nestled about a mile out of the town, an old gentleman sat in his chair by the light fireplace, the mantle decorated by pictures of him and a young woman who could be his granddaughter.

He shifted and twitched in the chair before he settled back with a content sigh. He was reaching for his book when the sound of breaking glass followed by the sound of a silencer broke the peaceful scene.

He jerked a little as the bullet slammed into his body, blood beginning to stain his blazer as two men in black suits entered the home through the back door. There was no talking as they began to search through the ground floor of the home, focused on their task. Neither of the men took any notice of the old man's last act of life, a word written shakily in his own blood on the arm of his chair.

It smeared as he slumped over.

The two men began to look through papers that were scattered, one taking all the letters he found on the kitchen counter. They were about to head upstairs when the distant sound of a motorcycle reached them. One took a step towards the front door when the obvious leader shook his head, and they took their exit through the way they had come.

In the shadows, they went unnoticed by the young woman riding the motorbike.

Parking next to the front door, she got off and walked up. She pulled off her helmet, strands of her blonde hair still clinging to it. Reaching into a pocket of her motorcycle jacket, she pulled out a key.

Unlocking the door, she did not hesitate to walk in and kicked the door shut behind her. As she hung up her helmet next to the door, she called out cheerfully, "Hallo, Grandfather!"

Confusion filled her when she did not hear the response she always received, and turned around, only to find disoriented shadows cast by the fireplace and sighed. Pulling her tan messenger bag over her head, she carefully hung it up next to her helmet and walked forward with heavy steps from her steel-toed boots.

She moved past the fireplace to the odd placement of their light switch, shaking her head slightly as a smile crossed her face. "Grandfather, did you fall asleep?"

Turning the lights on, she turned around to shake her grandfather awake, only to let out a scream when she saw him. Pushing against the wall, as if she could somehow escape the reality she was facing, she stared wide-eyed shock at his body. She shivered and began to cry, slumping down to the ground.

It would be some time before she managed to call the police. Once they came she was sitting on the porch, the door open behind her. She looked up and one of them gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "My condolences Miss Kirshner."

She nodded her thanks and he led her off to be questioned. She sat out of the way as they went through her house, all wondering how the good doctor had been shot. When her questioner realized she did not know if nothing was missing, he waited for the body to be removed before he escorted her in.

They started with the top floors and though things were a little out of place, which she had expected in all honesty, there was nothing missing. Her music box was untouched and she smiled with relief.

It had monetary value in the fact it had been hand-made from before World War II. Its sentimental value was far higher than any physical price that could be placed upon it.

As they entered the living room, her lips trembled as she looked at his favorite armchair. He didn't question it when she turned away, biting back her tears as she tried to focus on figuring out if anything was stolen.

It would do no good to start crying again right now.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea now."

"No…I'm fine."

The lie was obvious though he let it go. It would do no one any good to stress her farther. He gently pushed her along, out of the room. As they passed into the kitchen, her eyes fell on the empty kitchen counter. "Now, that's strange…"

She strode forward and let her hand rest where she had placed the mail that morning. "The mail is missing. Grandfather said he would look at it later."

The officer nodded a bit. Looking around, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Miss Kirshner, are you sure you'll be all right?"

She turned to him and nodded. "Yes, eventually. In the meantime, I'll call a friend from work."

"Pack what you need Miss Kirshner. I'll have one of my men escort you to where you will be spending the night. We'll contact you when you can return home."

The girl nodded her thanks and picked up the phone. Being careful, she rotary dialed the number. _"Hallo, Grace Thompson here!"_ a high-end British accent with some German influence greeted brightly.

"Hallo Grace. It's Alice. Can I spend the night there?"

_"Naturally. What's wrong?"_

"I'll explain when I get there."

_"Don't take too long."_

"I won't."

Exchanging good-byes, Alice hung up. Turning, she was allowed to pack her small suitcase with things from her room alone. Once she had packed the suitcase, she paused from going back down when she saw the music box.

Gently taking it in her hands, she sat on her bed and traced the cravings. Roses and edelweiss intertwined together to create a frame around twin swans in flight. She stared at it, smiling a little. She was about to open it when her escort came up.

"Miss Kirshner, it’s time to go."

"Of course. Thank you."

The younger man smiled and tipped his head in respect. He took her suitcase for her and she only stopped once she got going, grabbing her helmet along with the tan messenger bag. She tucked the music box into her bag, carefully, and exited.

It was a long walk, but she couldn't abandon her motorbike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might take me a while to post entirely, since I am tired and I am starting school soon.
> 
> And because I am editing as I am posting, so there is that too.
> 
> Just...tiny things.
> 
> Ugh, tired.


	2. Chapter 2

The hotel, with restaurant inside, was one of the nicest places to eat out. It wasn't overly expensive, just classy. What set the restaurant apart from the rest were the name tags, which also held the nationality of each employee.

To Alice's eternal annoyance, she was a waitress. The things on her that weren't black were the white dress shirt under the vest and the gold name tag. Under her name, printed in smaller letters, was " _DEUTSCHLAND_."

"Are you sure you're ready to come back to work, Alice?"

Grace's concerned voice made Alice smile. Sitting up a little from where she was adjusting her one inch heels, she nodded. "I have to start sometime. The house was reopened for me. They got what little they could."

The Brit snorted and adjusted Alice's black tie for her before standing up. "You're the only female the tie doesn't look stupid on. That's not right, Alice."

"Thanks for pointing out my flat chest, Grace. I don't know how I could have gone through the day without it being pointed out to me."

While that dry tone normally warned of a fight between the pair, the rush of laughter indicated there was no such thing today. They laughed so hard, they almost fell to the floor.

"Five minutes, girls."

The maid's careful warning had them brushing off their faces, Alice still trying to muffle her laughter. Alice stood up, and Grace smiled in her concerned way.

Grace placed a kiss on Alice's cheek. Alice gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be okay?"

That, apparently, had not convinced Grace. Alice briefly closed her eyes in thought. "Eventually."

It was all Alice could offer at the moment. She wasn't sure how long 'eventually' would be this time. It wasn't like her first motorcycle accident. She had bounced back rather easily. This time, it would not be so.

Grace had beaten Alice to the assignment board. When Alice got there, Grace looked like she was trying to hide the board. Alice gave an irritable sigh. "Anything if you switch with me." The pleading was in English.

Alice gave a weary groan. Grace suddenly got a smile. That certain smile made Alice very nervous.

Grace leaned in. "I'll edit out your kiss from this past Christmas party DVD."

Alice flushed in embarrassment. "You didn't have to say that! I was going to say yes!" Her voice came out in a high-pitched squeak.

Grace grinned and hugged her. With that, Grace exited while Alice read the board. She let out a defeated groan when she saw it was the east room. The east room had a large window that let in a ton of sunlight and a lot of cold. "Wonderful. What did I get saddled with?"

Entering the east room, Alice wanted to go hunt Grace out and drag her back. The table had a total of five people. The first two that caught her eye were about the same age. One had fiery, red hair that spiked about oddly, while the other had brown hair that fell over one eye. To the redhead's right, was a bald man. To the bald man's right, was an elderly gentleman. The last one was middle-aged, though he looked older with his silver hair.

Out of the entire company, he was the one Alice found the most interesting.

His relaxed posture was an older sort of proper, with his shoulders back and obviously trying to take up as little space as possible. His face, however, seemed grim to her, even with the smile on his face.

It was also...familiar.

She shook her head hard enough to hurt her neck before greeting them with a fake smile. "Hallo. How may I help you this morning?"

The group looked up, and she noted they had been handed the German menus. Actually, studying them, she felt her smile rise slightly to the side as amusement curled through her stomach. They seemed confused to her, except for the middle-aged man who, this close, she was surprised to see had steel colored eyes.

He seemed like someone who had no trouble with the menu and so Alice focused on him. "Can I get any of you something to drink?"

The redhead was grousing about something lowly, all the while glaring at the middle-aged man. She looked between them all and the middle-aged man shook his head. She faced him and waited for her usual treatment.

"Yes, thank you. My brown haired friend would like a coffee, only half-filled, with a cream on the side. The redhead would like a cola. The gentleman would like the English breakfast tea with a side of cream, and two black coffees for the pair of us, please," the middle aged man ordered politely.

Alice smiled warmly at him. "Very well, sir. Are you ready to order?"

The middle-aged man shook his head. He seemed to have an amused smile on his face, but she couldn’t be sure. "No, my friends are having some difficulty."

"I'll return shortly with your drinks. Coffee with cream on the side, cola, English breakfast tea with side of milk, and two black coffees, is that correct?"

At the nods and one word in a language she didn’t understand, she smiled. "Thank you. I will be right back with your refreshments."

Walking away, she couldn’t help but smile brightly.

She felt rather at ease with them. They treated her like a person, not a servant. While unusual, she would prefer it to be the usual thing. With a shake of her head to clear her thoughts, she slipped into the back.

Alice passed Grace and captured her wrist. With a not so gentle tug, Grace followed sheepishly. "Oh, come now, love. You know that I don't handle foreigners well!"

"Grace, you are a foreigner!"

"See! That proves everything."

"Don't make me hurt you, Grace."

Getting the tray, she balanced it on her arm. With rehearsed ease, she placed the drinks on it. Moving carefully, she backed out and headed towards the table. As she came closer, she was able to hear a conversation.

"You know, if there weren't all these extra letters, I could read it just fine!" the red head exclaimed.

"What extra letters?" the middle aged man responded in what seemed to be an amused tone.

"Shut up! You know what I mean!"

"Would you rather I order you a BLT?"

"Don't be disgusting! It's pizza! And there is no good pizza outside of New York."

"Well, pizza is an uncultured food. Now a good fish and chips, that's a worthwhile meal," the bald man intervened.

His cultured accent told her he was from a "proper" area of England and Alice bit back a grin at the way Grace’s mocking tone filled her mind at that.

The middle-aged man laughed, and the brown haired teenager said something. She really wished she understood him. She knew what it felt like to have people stare blankly at you when they didn’t understand you.

It was even worse when they didn't acknowledge they had no understanding. Of course, that could turn in her favor.

"All right. I have the English breakfast tea, with side of milk, two black coffees, half coffee and side of cream, and a cola. Is everyone ready to order?"

"Well, I am. I'll have a roll with blackberry jam and a hardboiled egg. You might have to give them suggestions."

Alice smiled, shifting the tray under her arm. She pulled out her notebook, writing the middle-aged man's order. Once reassured it was legible, she faced the party. "Our restaurant caters to all nationalities. We have traditional breakfasts from around the world. If anyone is wishing for a bit of England, I would suggest the full English breakfast. Then we have oatmeal, grits, and cereal, whatever suits those who are missing America, or possibly even England. However, we do serve almost anything and everything to suit anyone’s tastes.”

The middle-aged man seemed to be the cat that ate the canary as the red head snapped, "I can't believe it! You had us worrying and this entire time you  _knew_  we could have anything we wanted!"

The redhead looked livid, and Alice fought to keep a frown off her face.

She had no concrete idea of why he was irritated but she had a suspicion that steel-eyes had been playing a harmless joke. "You could have asked for an English menu, Jet."

The redhead, or Jet, groused even more at the middle aged man's words. Alice looked between them and said, "I could go get you a menu, sir."

"No. I'll have oatmeal with honey mixed in."

"You need all the sweetness you can stand,”

Jet gave the middle-aged man a _look_ that reminded Alice of one of Grace's own looks to her. The look of annoyance, promised revenge, and a reluctance to agree. She faced the elderly gentleman and got his order. The British man got the English Breakfast, which didn’t surprise her in the least, and she looked at the last one. When he still spoke in the rapid paced language she didn’t understand, she turned to the middle-aged. "He would like oatmeal with cinnamon,” he translated.

Nodding, she smiled at them. "I'll have your food out as soon as possible."

They thanked her, and she collected their menus. Dropping them off at the podium, she crossed back to the kitchen. Putting the order up, she paused to stare out at the half-empty restaurant. "Thank you, Alice."

She rolled her eyes at Grace. Checking over the door, she collected the coffee pot and went back out. Standing nearby, the German speaker gently pushed his empty cup to where she had easier access to it.

A thankful smile crossed her face as she refilled it. "Could you be a dear and bring some more tea?" the British man asked and Alice resisted the urge to tense.

"Of course, sir. Can I get you anything while your meal is being prepared?" she inquired lightly.

"Ah, yes. Do you know where Dr. Rupert Kirshner lives?" the oldest gentleman asked.

Alice felt as if the floor fell out from under her as her face chilled.

"Dr. Kirshner? I'm afraid you can only find him at the Friedhof,” she explained, feeling as if she was about to drop the coffee pot, though it was now safely away from her customers.

"The cemetery? What happened?" the middle-aged gentleman asked.

The bearded man seemed shocked, but Alice had half-stopped processing the world around her. She backed away a little, and then stopped, her feet feeling stuck to the floor. “Miss Alice?” the middle-aged man asked and the pot slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor.

"I'm sorry, I’ll get towels to clean that up,” she recited in a shaking voice and left quickly, not seeing anyone.

She felt like she was walking with blinders on and she breezed past Grace without seeing her.

"Alice? Alice!"

Grace's voice didn't fully register. Alice kept going, wrapping her arms around herself as she power walked. She had no clue where she was going until she ended up in the break room.

There, Alice huddled into the farthest corner on the floor, shoulders shaking. "Alice, what's wrong?" Grace gently questioned as she knelt in front of her.

Alice sobbed into her own arms. "Oh, Alice,” Grace breathed as she encircled Alice in her arms.

Twisting slightly, Alice buried her head in Grace's shoulder and barely stopped herself from clutching at Grace’s vest. No words were spoken as Grace ran her fingers through Alice's hair.

It worked to calm her and she sniffled as she sat up and away from Grace. "I broke the coffee pot,” Alice stated.

"The boss won't be mad for that. What do you say to telling me what happened while I get you cleaned up? Okay?"

"Okay."

Alice felt herself be pulled up through her daze. It felt like she was being supported to the staff washroom. She noted that something rough, yet warm, was washing her face off.

"What set you off?"

Grace's voice pierced her fog, and Alice blinked in surprise. "They knew my grandfather."

The rough thing stopped moving. "What?"

"They knew my grandfather. They wanted to know where he lived."

"But you said he never left Germany. How could they know him?"

Alice struggled to lock her grief away. This wasn't the time or place. Of course, nothing had been the time or place. She wrinkled her nose as Grace continued to wash her face. "Stop treating me like a child."

"Glad to see you seem better. How could they know him?"

Alice shrugged, confusion mounting. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head. "I know that look. Something is bugging you."

"A guy, the middle-aged one with the steel eyes, looks familiar."

"Alice, that's impossible. Unless you met him before you moved here."

Alice sighed in frustration. Getting off the counter, she hugged Grace. The embrace was returned tightly. Alice felt like Grace was trying to keep her there, safe. "Thanks Grace."

"Don't worry about it, love."

Alice let Grace go, but Grace didn't, so Alice wrapped her arms back around Grace’s waist. "Where're you going to go during lunch?" Grace asked

Alice enjoyed the warmth she found there. "I thought I would go visit Grandfather."

"Is that wise?"

"Grace, when have I ever been wise?"

"True, love, true. Sure you can drive?"

"When don't I?"

Grace let out a sigh and slowly released Alice and Alice reluctantly stepped out of the embrace. Looking away from Grace, she turned in a slow circle. "How do I look?" Alice asked.

"Beautiful as always, Alice."

Alice felt her face heat up. With a tired sigh, she looked reluctantly at the door. With a sigh, she exited and headed for the kitchen. "Hey, Alice," a young male voice called and Alice turned, surprised to see one of the bus boys standing there.

“Yes Paul?” Alice questioned, once she remembered the black haired boy’s name.

"I got the pot for you,” Paul stated.

"Meals up!" the cook shouted and Alice immediately began to walk towards the kitchen once more.

"Thank you Paul!" Alice called over her shoulder as she hurried to the kitchen.

Alice got a tray and loaded it up with the full breakfasts. Going for another tray, she stopped when she saw Grace holding them, along with more tea. "I got it,” Grace stated and Alice immediately felt a stone form in her stomach.

Alice was nervous. Grace rarely “abandoned" her customers. "Okay," Alice murmured and they walked out.

Alice smiled as she began to set the right breakfast in front of the right person. "Sorry for the wait,” she said as she silently directed Grace to where she should deliver the British breakfast.

"Why do you want to know about Dr. Kirshner?" Grace demanded and Alice winced at Grace's blunt tone.

Giving a stressed sigh, she carefully settled the last plate in front of the steel-eyed one. "Grace, please, not now," Alice stated softly, feeling a chill racing up under her skin.

"Yes, now! They had no right! They could've asked anyone else, but no! They had to ask you! I think you deserve to know! They were bloody rude to do that, and I'll make sure you get the answer you deserve!" Grace exclaimed, her voice slowly sliding from the proper British accent to the Cockney accent she had been raised around.

Moving quickly, Alice placed a calming hand on Grace's arm as she began to urge Grace away. "Grace, calm down! Don't you have customers?" Alice whispered lowly and continued to try and get Grace out of there.

At this rate, Grace was going to get fired, but Grace was _livid_ and there was no way she was going anywhere.

She glowered at the table, easily matching the redhead, who seemed just as angry. Alice let out a tired breath and gently pushed at Grace's arm. "Please? For me, please don't,” Alice whispered even lower.

Grace looked at Alice and, with a curt nod, she backed off. Alice flushed with embarrassment as Grace left.

Facing the table, she rubbed her upper arm nervously. "My deepest apologies for that. I am sure if you talk with the manager, it will be no trouble for you to get your meal free."

The elderly gentleman shook his head. "No, no. We shouldn't have asked," he stated and Alice swallowed harshly.

"How could you know, sir? He was killed when the house he lived in with his granddaughter was robbed,” Alice explained, her voice tightening towards the end.

"Granddaughter?" the older gentleman asked.

Alice was sure she was imagining things now. She could have sworn that he…no, he couldn't. Could he? "Yes, sir, his granddaughter,” Alice confirmed.

"I see,” the old man mused and Alice resisted the urge to step away.

Something about that old man was starting to make her nervous, erasing all that ease she had with them previously. "Is there anything else, sir?" Alice asked, seized by a desire to escape.

"No. Thank you for being so understanding. We apologize for upsetting you," the steel-eyed man stated.

Alice smiled tightly and nodded. “If there is nothing else I can do for you, I'll leave you to eat."

The elderly man nodded, and she turned, leaving. Bringing up their bill, she pinned the table number to it and gave it to another waitress. Once that was taken care of, Alice moved to the women's changing rooms, clocking out.

Getting into her motorcycle garb, she moved to the back hallway. "Alice, where are you going?" Grace asked.

"I need to drive. Tell boss-man I'm sorry. Please?" Alice responded as she faced Grace with a tired smile.

Distantly, she could hear the rain starting to patter against the glass as she waited for Grace's reply. "You'll need to grieve sooner or later, Alice,” Grace stated.

"I know."

Alice sounded as tired as she felt.

"He'll understand,” Grace added softly.

Alice smiled her thanks and left, pulling her helmet on. Getting on her motorcycle, she started it up. She relished the feel of that power under her control and with a little nudge forward, she was off.

Turning, Alice knew exactly where she was headed.

She was going to go the local cemetery to shout at a headstone.


	3. Chapter 3

Alice parked her motorcycle next to the gate and swung off with enough force with to almost send her collapsing to the ground. With a heavy sigh that was almost a snarl, she began to march up to the section for modern gravestones, each frustrated step sliding slightly on the mud.

As she approached her grandfather’s gravestone she angrily yanked her helmet off and, once there, she threw it with all her might at the ground in front of the marble block. "What the _hell_?" she screeched as her helmet squelched in the mud.

She ran her fingers forcefully through her hair, only to get an unpleasant tug as her leather gloves caught on her hair. With angry movements she yanked the gloves off, stuffing them into her jacket pocket. "You die and your past haunts  _me_  instead! There's this guy who was at the restaurant, and he…I don't know!" she shouted and let out a frustrated sound as she resisted the urge to throw another thing at the stone.

She was panting with suppressed anger, frustration, and grief. She felt as if the emotions wore her out more than a mile run. With an angry yell, she swung her foot at the tombstone.

She missed and the momentum caused her to slip isntead, falling onto her back hard enough to force the air out of her lungs. She let out a cough, rolling over slightly in the mud.

Pushing herself up tiredly onto her knees, she glared at the tombstone. "So what? You got shot in  _Germany_! Germany! Which has one of the lowest gun related death rates in the world! How is it that you figure into that?" she demanded as the mud soaked itself into her clothes.

She dug her fingers into the mud, tears beginning to slide down her face as she sobbed openly in front of his tombestone. “You bastard,” she sobbed out, as she hunched further in on herself.

A peace fell over the area as she continued to sob, only for the unfamiliar sound of a double click and something _metal_ being pressed up against the back of her skull to break it. She took in a startled, hitched, breath, cutting into her sobs as she felt her heart pause before it began to race at double time. "Well, well, well. Looks like I didn't have to go searching for you, after all. Stand up!" an unfamiliar, male, voice ordered.

She stood up slowly, panic rising in her chest. The metal against the back of her head pressed a little harder. "Now, we're going to take a little ride, and you're going to tell me where Dr. Kirshner hid his research,” the voice demanded.

Alice stumbled a little, confusion spreading across her face. She didn't know about research. To her knowledge, he had never done _any_ research. "What research?"

A quiet cry of pain escaped when the guy gave another shove to her head with the metal object, and she felt her feet slip again. She let out a curse and used the moment of her trip to turn suddenly, only to see a guy in a black suit pointing a gun at her.

Her eyes widened with fear. "Look, we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! You could just give me the research, or I can force you to tell me where it is!" the man snarled.

"What research? Dr. Kirshner wasn't a research scientist!" Alice protested as she stepped away from the gun-wielding maniac, only to fall back into the mud.

She let out a short cough, trembling a little. "Don't lie to me! We know Dr. Kirshner had research!" the man shouted.

Alice shook her head in confusion over why they were asking her this. She bit down on her lip as the man's finger moved closer to the trigger. "You have one last chance,” he warned.

"And for the last time, I don't know what you are talking about!” she cried out, fear causing her to speak in a tone she did not think the man with the gun would appreciate.

She tensed, waiting for the bullet that would come in retaliation for her words when a large man grabbed the suit wearer, throwing him back.

The gun went off with the movement and Alice missed where the bullet went.

As she felt no pain, she assumed she hadn't been hit and it was then that she registered what was happening in front of her.

The large man, after throwing a man with _gun_ away from her, had moved to keep himself between her and the suited man. Her hands slipped through the mud as she scuttled away from the fight, the shivers that wracked her body more from the fear than the cold.

The suited man, once he was standing, aimed his gun briefly at the larger man before ran off. The large man tensed, briefly, as if he was going to go after the suited man before he turned to look over at her. "Are you all right?" he asked gently, staring towards her, his face an odd sort of neutral that she had never seen before.

She nodded slowly and gave a little squeak as he strode over, hands slipping out from under her when she tried to scramble to her feet, sending her back into the mud. He paused, briefly, before he held his hand out to her and waited.

For a few moments she just stared at the tanned hand before she hesitantly reached forward and accepted hand. The moment she was holding his hand, he just seemed to twitch and she was on legs that refused to support her own weight.

A gentle hand immediately came to rest against her mid-back. "Are you sure?" he inquired and it took Alice a moment to realize that he was asking if she was sure if she was all right.

She tried to nod again, only to almost collapse as her legs gave out. The hands caught her, easily, and she felt herself being directed onto a bench. She buried a muddy hand into her hair, gripping the roots as she shook all over.

What was even going on with her life anymore?

While it had never been perfect, she had never felt so turned around. She let out an upset groan. "You should never repress emotions.”

The tall man's voice startled her enough to cause her to jump into sitting up ramrod straight, her heart trying to beat itself out of her chest. She peeked up at him, breathing deeply as the rain continued to fall and eyed him before she slumped a bit. "I know,” she answered softly, not delving into why she was relaxing around him.

Probably because, while h was hovering, he was giving her a great deal of space. It was some time before she could stand again and he stepped further out of his space, though he remained hovering. "Thank you,” she stated as she walked back to her helmet, picking it back up.

“I could not let you be hurt,” the large man stated and she just shrugged shakily.

Turning and nearly falling, she went to her bike, the large man already walking toward the more rural areas. She watched him for a moment, wondering what he was doing here and how no rumor had started about him, considering he stood out like a sore thumb. He was very tall and broad, someone that everyone should notice.

After another few seconds, she shook her head and looked away. Putting the helmet on, she left off her gloves before she settled on the bike, and started it up. With the roar of the engine surrounding her, she took off. Her bike weaved a little before it gripped the wet road and she picked up speed once it did.

Her hands still shook from the fear and Alice knew shouldn't be driving, but she was. Her shoulders twitched a little, tensing. The speed picked up as her tension grew.

She didn't know what was happening.

Someone wanted something that she was sure never existed. She shook her head, pulling over to a stop.

Her head was starting to hurt again. She balanced on her bike, pulling off her helmet. She hung the helmet over the handlebar and began to rub her temples gently. A sharp stabbing pain shot through her temples and she let out a low whimper.

After a few moments, Alice felt herself humming the song of her music box, and she felt the headache ease slightly.

A rumble across the sky told her she needed to hurry home. Staring up at the sky, as if it had betrayed her in some way, she dismounted and began to walk down the road, pushing her motorbike along instead of riding it. "I really hope it doesn't start to _really_ pour,” she muttered, even as the rain began to pick up speed.


	4. Chapter 4

Alice hummed as she wiped down the mantel with the ease of practice, the dress that looked like it could have come out of a 1940’s magazine swishing around her calves. It was something she enjoyed doing, especially when she just wanted to relax with meaningless tasks that would let her mind wander as she kept her body busy.

As she lifted the picture (Alice with her nose stuck in a book, a small Christmas party in the background while Grace held some mistletoe over Alice's head and looked like a panther going in for the kill) on the far left of the mantle to wipe under it, as well as wipe it off, a knock at the front door echoed through the house.

The sudden noise caused Alice to jump and _almost_ drop the fame. She quickly finished wiping off both the mantle and the fame before she set the frame back on the mantel. Picking up one of the fire irons, she headed to the window to see who it was.

She pushed the curtain back a little to look out, surprised to find that on the porch was the large gentleman from the cemetery, and she raised an eyebrow. Debating, she turned from the window, placed the fire iron back, and opened up the door to her visitor, only to find she had more than one.

Hidden on the other side of her savior from the cemetery was the old man from the restaurant. She gave an annoyed huff and leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms. "Oh, you two know each other. Well, what is it that you wish to know, sir?" Alice questioned, forgoing any politeness.

She had used it all up at the restaurant earlier this week. "You are his granddaughter?" the old man asked.

Alice took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. The man who had saved her just seemed to stare through her physical form and into her soul, as if he knew her secrets or something like that. She tensed slightly and stood up normally. "Would you like to come in?" she asked.

The old man looked startled, and she felt her eyebrow come together as she frowned. Taking a calming breath, she prevented herself from saying something stupid. "Wouldn't you like to sit while we talk?" she clarified.

The old man nodded slightly, and she moved out of their way. "The den is to your right."

They entered, and she shut the front door behind them, resisting the urge to slam it or just send them on their way.

Not that she had the physical strength to throw her savoir out of the house, but she had a feeling he would go if she told him to.

Alice followed them into the den with the, new, green carpet that went with the wallpaper, her steps long and, she was sure, would be making rapid clicking sounds were she walking across tile. Making sure they were comfortable, her brain clawed for something to stall talking to them. "Can I offer you anything? Tea, coffee, water?"

"Coffee, please, Miss Kirshner,” the old man stated.

The tanned man shook his head no, and she got the coffee, black if she remembered correctly. She already had a pot started, and once it was finished, she got two mugs. One was for her guest, the other for herself, a generic white mug. She walked back in quickly, handed the old man his mug, politely, and sat down in the chair that replaced the one her grandfather had died in. "I am Dr. Isaac Gilmore an-…"

Dr. Gilmore was cut off by the shattering of the mug. Coffee went everywhere, and she felt as if her face was ice. "Oh…I'm sorry. I haven't been myself lately. Please, excuse me for a moment,” she murmured and exited the den quickly.

Once in the kitchen, she stood at the counter. She shook a little and got towels to clean up the broken pieces and dry the floor. Once reassured that she could face them, she headed back out to the den, carefully picking up the pieces and soaking up the coffee to the best of her ability. "Are you all right?" the large man asked and she jumped slightly.

She looked up at the large man who had saved her from a maniac with a guy and gave him a smile. "I'm fine. I didn't get your name, the other day,” she responded, quickly changing the subject as she focused on trying to get all the coffee out of the carpet.

"I am called G-Junior,” he answered softly and Alice nodded as collected the messed up towels, tossing them away instead of deciding to pick through them.

She wasn't usually this clumsy, but something about confronting her grandfather's past was not settling well with her. She collected herself before she joined them again. "Well, Dr. Gilmore, what was it you wished to talk with me about?" she inquired as she sat back down.

"I needed to ask if my old colleague had any research that he didn't have published?" Dr. Gilmore questioned.

Why was everyone asking about research that did _not_ exist? "Not that I know of, Herr Doktor,” Alice responded, even as she sat up straighter.

Dr. Gilmore nodded slowly at her answer and finished his coffee. "I am sorry to take your time, and for your loss. Good day, Miss Kirshner,” Dr. Gilmore stated.

“Thank you,” Alice answered as she stood.

She saw them to the door, and once they were gone, locked it tight. Rushing to the phone, she began to rotary dial her job. She needed to get away from here, and fast. She finished getting a leave of absence from work, and began to find out what she could safely carry to her maternal grandfather's home.

Alice knew it was going to be too dangerous to stay there long. People were coming after her for something she had no clue about. She didn't even know what research he _had_ published!

Packing up a backpack with needed things, she wrote a note for Grace.

Getting on her bike, she got to Grace's and slid the envelope into the "secret spot" where they hid everything. It looked like it went under the awning, when in reality they put it through a loose section above the door, which made it fall inside.

Heading down the stairs, she slipped on the helmet and revved up the engine before taking off. Racing down the highway, she ignored the built up feeling that was starting at the base of skull. She let out a low growl of annoyance and sped off, heading south.

She just needed to get out of here. Take time to clear her head, to be herself.

She needed to grieve, and denying herself that, had made her feel like she was a stranger inside her own head. Maybe spending some time with her maternal grandfather would help.

It always had before.

With another rev of the engine, her motorbike took off down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll put up four more chapters tomorrow.
> 
> For now.
> 
> Night.


End file.
